Sons of Koh
by vassalofbahamut
Summary: For Zutara Week 2011: Mask. During a festival, no one truly knows who watches from behind the masks... All characters are property of Nickelodeon, DiMartino, and Konietzko.


Zutara Week 2011

Sons of Koh

The icy night's wind found no shelter in the walls of ice and snow that made up the great glacial capital of the Northern Water Tribe. Here and there it blew, trying to find an escape from the million lanterns and braziers that lit the city tonight. It had no choice but to continue snaking about until quitting the glittering city, howling into the inky-black sky above. Tonight, even among the hard blue ice and frost, there would be no wicked chill. For tonight was the Lantern Festival, when the shimmering curtain of the aurora shone brightest against the clear sky. This Lantern Festival promised to be one to remembered for years, as it marked the first time that people from all four nations celebrated together in peace. Children from the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation raced Water Tribe youngsters down the slopes of the canal roads, and laughing elders in red and green and blue knelt together at low tables of serpent-whalebone to dine on spiced komodo-chicken, roasted moo-sow, and fermented sea-prune. In the brilliant azure dining hall of the Northern Water chieftain, a massive party was underway, with feasting, dancing, and the musical strains of a wildly popular upcoming band from the Fire Nation: the Flamey-O's.

Katara adjusted the sheer silk that whispered from her wide-brimmed straw hat and adjusted the warm sandalwood painted mask to fit more securely on her. The idea of masques was a Fire Nation tradition for the Moon Festival- one the Water Tribe chief Arnook enthusiastically adopted for the occasion. Katara smiled as she admired the intricate scarlet cloth and dyes criss-crossing her arms and slender form, all wreathed with a flowing array of gossamer veils and mist twirling from her own fingertips. She came as the Painted Lady, protector of the Fire Nation's common folk, and legendary spirit of the river. Smiling shyly behind the fragrant masque, she gazed around the room, guessing at the costumes of all the other guests. There was Suki and Ty Lee, dressed as dour Dai Li agents (well, trying to be dour: Ty Lee kept cartwheeling about, chattering with the other Kyoshi Warriors). And nearly trampling a horde of guests was a massive pile of fur and poles that was obviously meant to be a sky-bison, piloted by Aang and Sokka, arguing over whose responsibility it was to cut out eye holes in the massive costume. Grinning at the pair, she saw a flash of blue and white catch her eye- strange, as the whole palace was built of blue and white ice. She focused on the flash, and noticed a blue and white mask of a grinning demon, mouth stretched wide with fangs, amid the sea of faces. Katara's breath quickened as she made her way to the blue demon, sure of the face behind that mask: Zuko, the Fire Lord, and her love. They had taken forever to realize their feelings for each other, each agonizing privately over how to express the raging torrent of emotion to one another without fear of a heartrending rejection.

* * *

><p>One day, the two got into a huge argument over the proper method of feeding turtleducks. It was a stupid argument, but palace attendants could hear the shouting from as far as the atrium of Royal Caldera. The argument only ceased when both combatants, seething and flushed with indignation, crashed together. Their lips locking in a torrent of fiery kisses, they poured their roiling feelings into the other, fully showing what mere words could never have clearly said. After that, everything fell surprisingly into place: Toph punched them both for taking such a long time to get around to it; Mai, writing from Kyoshi, wished them well in a friendly, though slightly cold, letter; even Aang came to understand Katara's and Zuko's feelings and warmly embraced them both. Sokka, of course, fainted dead away when given the news. Now they were at the North Pole, to celebrate not only the Lantern Festival and peace between the four nations, but privately to celebrate the kindling of their passion for each other.<p>

* * *

><p>She weaved through the crowd of phantoms, eyes locked on the Blue Spirit's mask. With every step, the grinning demon pulled further away, teasing her, leading her from one end of the cavernous hall to the other. Her steps quickened, intent on reaching her mischievous, grinning quarry. She even bent the ice under her feet, causing her to glide faster and faster between the revelers, but the Blue Spirit was too quick. Here he would appear; and in another instant, he would show himself from across the entire room, his grin still wide and staring. A slow smirk crept on Katara's face as she saw her target begin to slip away. Her hands readied, aiming to bend the ice to catch the Spirit's foot, keeping him from escaping. She was gliding over the ice at a blinding speed, bent on trapping the elusive Blue Spirit when suddenly he stopped, and stared at her. Unprepared, she nearly collided headlong into him, and only just stopped, inches from the grinning blue mask. They found themselves in the center of the dance floor, surrounded by guests. Behind her mask, Katara felt every eye on her and her partner. The music had stopped, and all was silent. Suddenly, the hall echoed with the sensuous tapping of a drum, a sultry beat that seemed enter through Katara's skin and flow out to her limbs. The Spirit evidently felt the same rhythm, for he suddenly swept his right leg back in a flourish and bowed gallantly, his gloved hand extended. He was dressed in form-fitting black cloth- his fanged mask providing the only color. Katara slid her fingers between her partner's, and the dance began.<p>

The Painted Lady and the Blue Spirit twirled in close to one another, their hips swaying in perfect time with each other and with the stirring music echoing off the walls. Every motion between the two dancers was flawless, a blend of fluid mastery and sizzling passion that transfixed everyone present. Katara had never danced like this before- she couldn't remember when she had done something so strenuous yet so exhilarating. Her partner was a master, his every steps perfectly measured and placed. She would shift her stance hoping to take the lead, only to find the grinning mask behind her, hands gently on her hips, still in control. Her breathing quickened as she felt those strong hands on her, and closing her eyes, she lost herself into the beat of the music, the rhythm of the dance, and the heat of the moment clashing with the coolness of the palace's ice walls. His hands traveled up, up, onto her arms, gently, traveling over the red silk straps. Strong fingertips glided down, pressing into her inner arms and elbows with force to make Katara gasp. Her eyes popped open with a gasp, and she twirled around, breathless. No one was there. The guests had returned to their dance, now focused on their own partners. Katara glanced around, but there was no sign of her Spirit. Aang and Sokka had abandoned the gigantic sky bison costume for the buffet, and Haru was dancing with a Northern Water Tribe girl, but her grinning love was nowhere to be found. Just then, she saw him, his azure mask still stretched in that cunning rictus, far off to the edge of a darkened hallway. Without pausing to wonder how he had gotten there so quickly, she broke off into a run, hoping to catch him. He was obviously leading her to a private corner of the palace, so that they could finally meet without masks, face-to-face.

She turned a corner, then another after another, keeping her mysterious suitor from disappearing into the shadows and found herself on a patch of soft grass, the cold of the North Pole gently receding, replaced with a balmy warmth. _The Spirit Oasis._All was silent but for the waterfall's gentle roaring in the cave. She saw the Blue Spirit, standing stock still in front of the pool where swam Tui and La, the Spirits of the Ocean and Moon. Katara ran and embraced her partner, wrapping her slender arms around her lover's strong, lithe frame. Her sandalwood mask fell from her, exposing her beautiful face.

"Katara... I'm glad you came." The Spirit's voice was husky, somewhat strained. Katara giggled and held him closer. He smelled of leaves, of autumn air, and fresh earth. It was a different scent for Zuko, but Katara still liked it. It reminded her of something... something that floated in the mists of her mind, but it was pleasant, whatever it was...

"Of course I would... where did you learn to dance, anyway? You were amazing..." She heard him chuckle, and she looked up, trying to see his eyes through the Spirit's mask. Nothing but black glaring pools returned her gaze. She gently lifted her hands to the straps of the mask, and undid them, trembling with anticipation. When the mask fell, she could lose herself in Zuko's amber gaze, feel his gentle lips lock unto hers, and drown herself in her passion for the Fire Lord.

The mask fell with a splash into the pool.

Katara froze.

What met her eyes was not her Fire Prince. Thick brown hair replaced his normally sable locks. Blank obsidian eyes stared out from where golden dragons' eyes would have been. A lecherous smirk replaced Zuko's warm smile. From his clenched teeth, a single spring of grass hung.

"J-Jet?" She fell away from her embrace, disbelieving.

Jet's smirk widened, his dark eyes glittering. "Hey Katara..." He took a step further, his swagger still in his gait. "It's great seeing you again... I'm so glad you came."

Katara shook her head, backing away. "B-But you... in Lake Laogai... How... Toph said..." Every step she took away from the freedom fighter, Jet reciprocated perfectly, keeping the same distance. _There was no way... Jet was dead... Long Feng killed him..._

His voice lowered to a ragged whisper as his hands twitched. "You left me, Katara... you left me there to die..." Shadows flew into his hands, coalescing in his gloved palms. They whirled and molded themselves into hookswords of pure darkness, clenched in his hands.

By reflex, Katara, focused and threw her hands up, summoning up a tide of water to freeze her partner -turned-assailant. Nothing happened. White-hot pain shot through her arms before she could connect with the water. _Strong fingertips glided down, pressing into her inner arms and elbows with force to make Katara gasp_ Her eyes widened in panic as she scrambled about and sprinted for the exit. Peeling off towards the shadowy cave entrance, she ground to a halt as she saw Jet materialize out of the darkness in front of her, grinning madly, swinging his roiling shadowbound weapons. Wherever she turned Jet was there, slowly making his way towards her. In her haste, she tripped and fell, and sobbing for breath, she rapidly crawled back, trying to keep away from him. "You...You aren't Jet...I don't know _what_ you are... but _you are not him._"

Jet cocked his head, confusion written over his face. Suddenly his eyes flashed, and his smirk crept into a truly murderous smile. "You're right," he whispered, "I'm not Jet." He bent down until he came within inches of Katara's face, azure eyes wide and frightened, fear written over her beautiful features. His hand passed over his face, and in an instant, Jet was gone. It was all Katara could do not to burst out screaming. Where the face of the handsome freedom-fighter once was, now there grinned a hideous wizened woman's, with deep skull-like sunken eyes, and bright white teeth. Hama's creaky voice filled Katara's ears, "I am not Hama either. I am pain, I am despair, I am sorrow. I am Death, Katara of the Water Tribe, and I've come for you." The assassin stood up, now wearing Jet's form once more, and bent the shadows back into hookswords. He grinned at the paralyzed waterbender, lifting her chin up with a pitch-dark blade. "Oh, before I forget... _Long Feng sends his regards_..." Katara clenched her eyes shut, waiting for the killing stroke. _Zuko..._

"Let. Her. Go." A voice split the silence of the Oasis, and Katara opened her eyes._ I know that voice..._ The assassin was staring at something behind her, and she turned around. Standing at the entrance of the cave, twin dao swords unsheathed and readied, stood Fire Lord Zuko. He wore no mask, and his eyes blazed a bright, furious gold. He snarled, "I'm not asking again. Step away from her. If she is hurt in any way, I will kill you."

Jet (rather, the assassin disguised as Jet) stepped a few paces away. He tossed his shadow swords from hand to hand, grinning wolfishly. "Prince Zuko, wonderful... this makes my task easier... Now I don't have to go looking for you."

Zuko snorted, stepping forward. "It's _Fire Lord _Zuko. And you might want to rethink the costume. I've only met Jet once, and I can tell that your disguise needs some serious work."

The assassin laughed, and his body began to melt and reform, as if made of vapor. Zuko's eyes widened as he found himself facing a burly grim-eyed man, with graying pointed sideburns. Admiral Zhao's harsh voice spoke. "How about this, princeling?" In an instant, Zhao seemed to fall into solid ground, only to materialize right in front of the surprised Fire Lord, shadow hookswords sweeping in a lethal arc. Zuko barely had time to bring his swords to meet the assassin's attack, shadow meeting steel with a solid _clang!_

Katara, arms still useless, could only sit and stare at the deadly dance. Zuko was a master swordsman; every motion of his swords, every step of his feet were perfect, deliberately placed to maintain maximum movement and striking power. The assassin in the form of Zhao was larger however, and used his superior weight to bull Zuko backwards in an attempt to make the Fire Lord lose footing. The young firebender whipped his head back to narrowly avoid the assassin's slash, then ducked and pirouetted around the attacker's overextended stance. Aiming a kick straight at the awkwardly-placed leg, Zuko sent the assassin tumbling to the ground, shadow swords disappearing into air.

"I'm convinced. You do make a good Zhao. The real Zhao was worthless with swords, too." The Fire Lord smirked and returned to an attack stance, swords both low and high. "Zhao" recovered, teeth bared savagely. Shadow burst from his hands, and the hookswords reformed as he charged the young man, roaring. Zuko met the charge, twin swords whirling about like a lethal steel breeze around his sprinting form.

Zhao was gone. Instead, Jet reappeared. Suddenly Zuko found himself frantically parrying a flurry of attacks from the assassin's faster, smaller form. Where the shapeshifter's Zhao form was strong but clumsy, his Jet form was much faster and much more adept with hookswords. A parry from Zuko's right sword aimed too low, and a shadow blade struck Zuko on the arm, biting through the fabric and drawing a vicious cut across the bicep. Katara gasped as Zuko cried out in pain, blocking the assassin's attacks with greater and greater difficulty. A savage kick to Zuko's abdomen caught him off guard, and a vicious roundhouse sent the young Fire Lord flying, slamming into the railing of a stone bridge.

Zuko winced in pain, hand clutching his gut as the assassin towered over him, Zhao's face grinning savagey down at him. His brawny hand clutched a fistful of Zuko's hair, yanking him off of his feet. Ignoring Zuko's yells of pain, the assassin turned to Katara, bringing his shadow sword up against Zuko's neck. "The last thing you will see is your precious Fire Lord dead, waterbender," he cackled.

"NO!" Katara leapt forward. She could feel the chi break through the barriers around her pressure points, and she sent a tidal wave crashing into the shapeshifter. The assassin flew forward, his grip on Zuko blasted loose by the torrent of water. He scrambled up, coughing and sputtering, "You little bilge-soaked tart! You will die slowly for that!" He advanced on Katara, summoning huge masses of shadow around his hands, forming them into crackling, roiling blades of darkness when a huge gout of flame sent him hurtling back.

Zuko stood, ignoring the wound on his arm. Wet hair dripped over his face, but couldn't veil the terrible brazen glow of his eyes as he approached the shapeshifter. The blades of his swords were sheathed in blazing flame, and every slash sent a burning trail of fire through the air.

"I told you to stay away from her." Breaking into a headlong sprint, Zuko rushed his opponent, flaming swords slicing burning gashes into the air. The shapeshifter reformed back into Jet, and now found himself dodging dozens of blows by the Fire Lord. The flaming blades cut through the conjured shadow weapons of the assassin again and again, forcing him to dodge instead of parry, melting away in order to escape Zuko's fiery assault. The assassin reformed at Zuko's side, aiming a final thrust at the Fire Lord, but his blow fell short. A block of ice had formed around his foot, stopping his attack short. Zuko jerked away, and by reflex, swept his swords in a lethal arc, slashing through the shadowy hookswords and through the assassin's torso.

Zuko ran to Katara, and embraced her in a fierce embrace. Katara clutched Zuko, tears of relief and exhaustion dripping unto the firebender's tunic. "Y-you're hurt, Zuko..." The waterbender locked eyes on the jagged scarlet line across Zuko's muscular arm. She pulled a silk band from her costume and tenderly bound his wound with the scarlet ribbon.

"I'm fine, look... Look at me..." Zuko's hand cupped Katara's chin and tipped her head up, his amber eyes searching for any injury, concern etched across his handsome face. His face broke into a relieved smile, and they remained, staring at each other in silence until the ragged breaths of the fallen assassin drew their attention.

They approached the fallen figure, still in the form of Jet. A huge, smoking gash ran across his torso, and his obsidian eyes were quickly losing their luster. Zuko stared down at him, clutching Katara close.

"Who are you... and why were trying to kill us?"

Katara stared hard. "You mentioned Long Feng. Did he send you here? How?"

The assassin laughed harshly, fighting for breath, "Long Feng... sent us. We... are the Sons.. of Koh... the... Face...Stealer...We...were to... to slay... the Fire...Lord...and...and the...Av...atar... You...were b-bait..."

Zuko narrowed his eyes. "Why? Why is Long Feng sending you after us?"

The Son of Koh grinned weakly, eyes still glinting malevolently. "It... is not the Son's...place... to question... only...only to act... We... We will return... We are... are... every..." His eyes dimmed, and the Son of Koh died. The corpse immediately began to dissolve into a mass of shadow, leaving only a chain, set with a single bronze medallion: a coiled centipede, with an ogre's visage.

Katara grabbed Zuko's arms, alarm written on her face. "Zuko... They said they were going after you and Aang... If.. if they can change their appearance, they can-" She paused, staring into Zuko's eyes. _If they can change their appearance, they could be anyone..._

Zuko's brow arched in confusion, then his eyes flashed with understanding. He tenderly parted the gossamer veil of her hat, lifted Katara's chin, and gently kissed her. His lips slowly locked over hers, and he poured everything into her, letting her feel every iota of his being, to erase any worry, any hint of doubt. He pulled back, smiling into her gleaming sapphire eyes.

"Did that convince you?" Katara smiled with relief and nodded. "I promise you," Zuko said, "I will look after Aang. We'll get through this together." Zuko held her close then, running a hand through her silken tresses as they kissed again in the Oasis, Katara's sandalwood mask on the ground, with nothing but the gentle thunder of the waterfall to break the silence.

Soli Deo Gloria


End file.
